


Promises Kept

by j_gabrielle



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Growing Old Together, Just a little bit I swear, Love, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt on the kinkmeme on LJ, based on the prompt:- </p><p>
  <i>I don't care how you do it, whether it's in Erebor or Bag End (or both!), whether the Ring is dealt with or not. Just let me have them dealing with their joints getting creakier, their hair getting whiter, their bodies growing ever frailer, but them not minding because in the end, they got to spend all those decades with each other. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises Kept

  
Thorin groaned, rolling to his side. The weather was getting colder, and the days growing shorter. "The fire's out." Bilbo stated, burying his Hobbit feet under Thorin's knees, hanging on when the dwarf yelped at the icy cold of it.  
  
"Then go light it!" He hissed, drawing the covers over him. Outside, the sky was still a blue-grey canvas. Dawn was not far off, but the sun would not shine till much later on. "Why do you keep poking me?" He frowned, peering at the Hobbit from under his thick blankets.  
  
Bilbo huffs, eyes bright with mirth even in the dim light. "Because that's what you promised me when we got married remember? That _you'd_ be the one to light any and all fires that go out in the night." He emphasized on the last bit with a particularly vicious poke.   
  
Thorin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It _was_ true, and he distinctly remembered it being one of the stipulations in their marriage contract; the one that Bilbo insisted he draw up before he even gave an inkling of an answer to his proposal.  
  
Slowly, muttering under his breath in Khudzul, he sat up, slipped into his slippers and padded to the fireplace. It takes him a minute to light it back up, and another few more to get the fire going, relishing the way the heat seeped into his bones and banishes the chill from the room.  
  
He is halfway back to their shared bed when Bilbo sits up coughing, dry and hacking. It wrecks his entire body in heaving shudders, and Thorin is at his side in an instant, pouring him a cup of water from the pitcher on the night stand.  
  
The Hobbit accepts it with a pained smile, the shadows under his eyes prominent. Thorin knows he doesn't look any younger, but Bilbo's hair is now a snowy mass of curls, crows feet lining the corners of his eyes. Small clever hands that played such a great part in taking back his homeland are now gnarled and mapped with blue veins. Gently, he takes them into his own calloused, larger ones.  
  
To Thorin, Bilbo will always be that handsome Hobbit that he married on a fine Summer's day in front of all his subjects and allies, at the steps of the great doors of Erebor.  
  
"I love you." He says suddenly, brushing a thumb over a knuckle. "I love you very much."  
  
They sit together in the quiet; him stroking the jut of his bones, Bilbo leaning forward to press their heads together. Erebor would be much warmer, and far more pleasant on Bilbo's health than the cold seasons of the Shire. But Thorin could not ignore the homesickness in Bilbo's eyes any longer, could not ignore the way Bilbo would hide his face whenever he is taken over by a memory or two of rolling hills and his Hobbit hole.   
  
Thorin knew that his consort would never seek to burden him with things as such, but... Marriage was all about compromises, was it not? By then, the crown he wore felt heavy on his head. And so 8 years ago, he had abdicated his throne in favour of Fili who was by now, ready for his duties as King Under The Mountain.  
  
"Come back under the covers. Lie with me." Bilbo's voice drew him out of his thoughts. The gentle hand stroking his cheek tilted his head till he was looking into smiling eyes. "Your nephews can let themselves in when they arrive." Thorin turns his head to press a kiss to Bilbo's wrist.  
  
They maneuver themselves, slotting their bodies together guided by years of knowing each others' likes and dislikes. Thorin tangles his fingers into Bilbos' hair and the Hobbit snuggles his face into his chest. He lets the rhythm of his husband's breathing lull him back to the shores of sleep.  
  
Thorin misses Erebor, and it lingers like a dull ache in the back of his mind. But he knows that right here, holding his Hobbit and sleeping in the bed he built for their home, is the the only place he could ever want to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a little angstier than I would've liked it, but oh well...


End file.
